I did not sleep well at all last night. I woke up about every two hours right on the nose.

My dream about the preschool program is obviously heavily influenced by the Scooby Doo Movies episode with Jerry Reed that was on Cartoon Network. So at the program, we couldn’t start because someone stole Jerry Reed’s xylophone. There were three families that wanted to sign up for Thursday afternoon preschool, and one has waiting to have a baby until they had enough money–even though the lady was already pregnant. I guess she just wouldn’t go into labor until they had more money. Mom came up to me and said, “I’m so bombed.” She had drank too much (my mom doesn’t drink often, so this is not typical, as it may be for others). As I was getting dressed for the program, I heard about reports of a flood in Hutchinson, and I thought to myself, “We could have died. We were just there.”

Randy, David, Matt, Mom, Dad, and I all moved to Japan. Mom and Dad bought a bright red 1930s car (a Pierce Arrow?) with a matching trailer. I spotted Engrish: a sign from the “Potato Meatball” Restaurant advertised “Meat Poptein,” not protein. I kept wanting to go to a bookstore, but we never found one. David worked at Benetton and I visited him in the mall where he worked. It wasn’t really a mall, but more like the basement of a fancy hotel. “Man, I used to not be able to afford this stuff, but now, it’s Japan . . . I used to think I’d get here and just totally immerse myself in art.” I told him that I thought I’d get to Japan and just watch TV all the time. The American district was signified by the picture of Queen Victoria on the Bombay Sapphire gin label.

Again, I’m writing from notes scribbled in the middle of the night. This time, instead of filling up the back of a receipt, I nearly filled up a spiral notebook page.

Mom and I were going to my old high school. In the parking lot, there was an ice skater darting between cars. Mom said, “She’s talented; you should ask her–” She skated in front of our car and nearly killed all of us. We saw a parked cop car. Mom said, “I hate to ask an off-duty policeman,” but he left before she could complain. We headed towards the building. The power had gone out and as we walked in, it came back on. The library was locked, so, since we couldn’t get in there, we walked around the commons area. We kept bumping into people I knew from then. No one else’s mom was there. Zach said, “Hey, Jen,” and Mom whispered, “Follow through,” code for continue the conversation with him. I told her, “Ease,” meaning for her to stop nagging. Most people were eating. I found Amber’s credit card (Amber was a girl I went to high school with, but the Amber whose credit card I found is really the mother of one of our preschool students) and said I would return it to her, as I would see her later. I picked up two keychains. Then we walked outside. Mom said, “I forgot I had to buy you strawberries.” I told her that “I would have asked for them if I really wanted them.” Then she bought me two prescriptions, four CDs, and lunch. In the parking lot now were two white Corvettes and Howard’s car. I woke up to one of the Scooby Doo Mysteries, sleeping as always with Cartoon Network on, as they were talking about racecars.

I dreamt Grandpa had two new calves, both bulls, one had the beginnings of horns on his snout. I could the bone beginning to form under the skin like new teeth. The calf was trying to bite me. Grandpa told me that he had traded that “yappy dog” (perhaps a bleedthrough from the Scooby Doo meets Courage the Cowardly Dog commercial on Cartoon Network), one of the calves, and his “son” on a treadmill for cash. The “son,” a transient Grandpa had picked up somewhere for odd ranching jobs, said, “Oh, you’ve found another son?”

I was digging in the refrigerator for something to eat. I only had twenty minutes to get to my English 890 class with Brooks. I found a large, precooked hamburger patty (complete with the little grill lines). I added cheese to it, though about how it was a perfect protein diet meal and giggled, and ate.

Miscellaneous stuff about preschool meetings.

We were having a garage sale to raise money for the playground at preschool, so I donated a sack of clothes. I went through my closet with Debbie, an ex-co-worker, and couldn’t remember having most of those clothes anyway.

I dreamt that I was at the old playground in my old neighborhood, and one of the preschool kids almost got eaten by a crocodile. His mom came up to me and explained that there were caymans in the kiddie swimming pools and it just wasn’t safe at all. I agreed, but didn’t know exactly what to do, so we all stayed inside a lot from then on.

I had to go to back to the university for some reason and Mom drove me. We miraculously found parking spaces right in front of the building we needed to go to. Mom drove past the handicapped parking (which was full) and the “Professor of the Month” type parking stalls. We pulled into a free space on the other side of those reward stalls and we noticed that, instead of parking meters, they had actual policeman standing in front of each stall. We continued into the parking space and the policeman got out of his little tollbooth-type box. He told us we owed $7.00 to park there for one hour. Mom said that was a little high and she decided she’d just drop me off and pick me up later. The policeman got very upset and said it was $9.00 to refuse to park there. We quickly pulled out and Mom sped away. I remember thinking that I was glad that she had a handicapped tag so that her license tag was simply a line of five numbers instead of a more memorable combination of letter and numbers. She dropped me off and I realized how ill I felt. I went on a roller coaster and, while it didn’t help my headache, it still was neat.

I was making movies in a program similar to Flash. Persons could download the real music video to any song from a mysterious website, then fiddle with it, and upload it to share their modified video. I had a Christina Aquilera video to work with, and I immediately added subtitles and so on. Her video thankfully wasn’t of her, but images of Marlo Thomas from That Girl and other dated things. Then, towards the end of the video, a bunch of current-day teenage girls ran out of their high school and towards the woods. White italicized Helvetica text told me it was “a few years later,” and I changed that to something smartass. I was doing all this editing work in the old upstairs bathroom of the old house. I went to preview my video, but it had somehow gotten intercut with commercials starring Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez. I was a bit upset that it was continuing past nine o’clock, but I don’t know why. Then I was going to take a shower, but I was bit by a spider on my right index finger. I ripped the spider from my hand–it was a tiny tan spider–and smashed him on the white porcelain sink. I saw the blood smear and thought about how it was really mine.

I went to a garage sale and bought several cookbooks for $2 each after debating whether I really wanted them that badly. I bought Beyond Parsley and the full, hardback, brand new version of The Joy of Cooking. Later, Mom called and told me that she had bought me James Beard and other cookbooks at the same sale.

I tossed and turned quite a bit last night, and that definitely played a part in some of my dreams last night.

I flipped over, thinking to myself, “When I get to the next list item, I’ll flip back over.”

I had dreams about two different menu button designs.

I can’t remember if this dream was from last night or the night before last: I was in a California Pizza Kitchen, trying to ring up a pizza by scanning the UPC code on the bottom of the box. I was the only one there; it was dark and rainy outside and I was working by various blue lights. I could have easily stolen the pizza, but I wanted to pay for it and I was trying to figure out the cash register. As I rang it up, the recipe for the item appeared on the screen. Then I realized I could steal the recipes (even though I couldn’t ethically deal with stealing a pizza, stealing the recipes was fine) if only I could figure out how to print them out.

A teacher, somehow a combination of Anthony and Mac, was packing up his books and materials to leave the Center. I was helping him by reaching the books on the bottom shelf. I wouldn’t let him take the Needlepoint for Children book because I had looked at it so many times when I was a kid. He said I could just keep it, as well as another book on color that was very cool. Just as What Wood Is That? has wood samples, it had paint samples and, I think, it had transparencies too so you could play with color mixing. We put his belongings in a white metal crate. Also in the crate was a small white stool that belonged to Pat, but Pat said she didn’t want it anymore. She too was packing. I helped Anthony/Mac carry his stuff to his truck: when I went outside, I was in my old house’s driveway. I set the crate in his truck. Then John Ritter, rolling two suitcases behind him, came out of the house to the left and headed towards the house on the right, wheeling his belongings across part of my driveway, I followed him into the neighbor’s house (Nicole’s) and he settled into the master bedroom. The master bedroom had three beds; five people lived there. Now that John Ritter was there, there were six people living in that one room. I suppose I was one of them now (I was included in that six) and I had to share a bed with someone. My cousin Barbara was there, and we decided we could share a full-size bed. I told her “I promise not to kick you on purpose, but I can’t be held responsible for anything I do unconsciously.” She agreed.

I had another dream about my cousin “Craig” (real name is Chris, but I guess I didn’t remember that), but I only vaguely remember that he was there. We were on the mezzanine level of the McKnight Arts building. He was teasing me about something.

Since I’m almost feeling better again (except for a nagging sore throat which is unrelated to being sick, but probably related to the treatment), I think that last night made up for a lot of lost time dreaming. I had an incredibly busy dreaming night last night in my eleven hours of sleep. (I’d still be sleeping if I didn’t have to go to work today.)

Let the long, complicated dreams begin! These are in two sections: the first is from 11:30 pm – 5:30 am (when I woke up and wrote them down) and part two is 5:30 am – 10:30 am.

—part one—

I was in a zoo with Johnny Depp and a Top Gun-era Tom Cruise. They didn’t really know I was there, but I was. I thought it was very weird that Tom Cruise was there, but I hoped he would play his part successfully. They were both wearing lemon yellow jumpsuits; Johnny looked very nice in his, and I thought to myself “Awww, I got Johnny to wear yellow.” I don’t know why I was so touched by it, but I was. We were walking towards a barn, and we paused for a journalist and photographer to cross our path. We got to the barn, but more importantly, we got to the downed air conditioning duct that was lying on the ground outside. We were supposed to kill a man there, but someone had beat us to it. The guy was dismembered, “torn limb from limb like a dog does to a Ken doll.” Every joint was broken or snapped apart. The journalist came back and opened the air conditioning duct with a laser pen, and we actually saw the remains of the body then. We moved on to the fish hatchery, near the front of the zoo. We went in and opened a car trunk to do something. When we opened it, the smell was horrid and bugs swarmed around us, biting any exposed flesh. We turned to go, but a guy with a gun stopped us. He said he was holding us up because someone held him up. He didn’t really want to harm us, but he felt we were all trapped there together. He wouldn’t let us leave the door without him, and for someone reason, we had to call someone’s attention to where we were in order to leave. We went to the custodian’s cart and pressed the red “help” button. We were patched through to the front offices of the zoo. We went to speak, but a mechanical Indian voice spoke for us automatically as a function of the help button.”I am seeking to find my way out of the park,” said the voice, sounding exactly like Apu from The Simpsons. The racist help desk clerk said, “You’re lost. Consult the map.” It was of no help since we were presumed to be Indian. I punched in code 555, not knowing what would happen. I just said, “I think the fish hatchery is on fire or something.” We left, running out the back door, and we saw fire trucks coming from outside the zoo. We got into a late 1970s model Oldsmobile (me in the back, with the gunman) and waited for the fire trucks.

At an all-girl elementary school, a statute of Hunter S. Thompson greeted students at the entrance. A fourth grader there killed Hunter S. Thompson by shooting Jello pudding mix directly into his veins, thus turning his blood into pudding until it no longer could be pumped through his circulatory system. (Another guy was killed by his own urine, but we couldn’t figure out how that happened. Johnny Depp seemed to think that something else was injected into his liver.) “Wow,” I thought, possibly from the backseat of the car, “Some girl’s going to be really upset that Hunter S. Thompson is dead.” We (no longer Johnny Depp and Tom Cruise, but two females) debated about which of two obese girls would be the one who would turn into a hysterical mess when Hunter S. Thompson’s murder was announced. The two females decided it would be one girl, but I chose the other, known simply as “Fat Doris” after years of teasing. The other girl, I commented, “just wants little girl piano fingers,” meaning, I think, that she would only be upset if someone like Andrew Lloyd Webber was murdered. After someone in the school hallway laughed and twiddled their fingers in delight of my analysis (this was just a single image; I was never in the school, but I saw this anyway), we all looked on the front lawn as Fat Doris attempted to run and hug the statue. There were two girls trying to put Fat Doris in handcuffs. I then looked at the two females who had said that it would be the “little girl piano fingers” obese girl that would be upset, and the two females shrank down to three feet tall and shared one wheelchair: “We were going to win web awards, but I think we’re of a pretty small stature,” they said in unison just like the twin Japanese girls from Mothra.

Some female friends and I were friends with Jennifer Lopez. J-Lo had two baby girls and four bathrooms; she had to use three of the bathrooms to get ready to go out. She was dating Johnny Knoxville, and I had fun making up headlines for the tabloids: “J-Lo leaves one jackass for another ‘Jackass,’” referring to P. Diddy, of course. J-Lo had Melanie Griffith-brand underwear. We kept discussing going to a diner an hour north of J-Lo’s house. We finally got there (after J-Lo took forever getting ready) and found an abandoned bowling alley/lounge. Our dinner was catered, and I helped bring in broccoli and something else. I accidentally sat the broccoli in whipped cream instead of the ranch dressing. The chef joked, “Most of what we’re eating could be stored in the desk drawer of the average dieter.”

I was on a photo shoot with Matt’s mom (Ellen) and sister (Barb). I was wearing a pink boa, Mardi Gras beads, a silver wig, and other fru-fru things. There was a buffet at the shoot and I got a soft sugar cookie with one-inch-high frosting, chocolate chips, and cookie dough nuggets: as I selected one, I said, “Normally I’m not hungry, but I just can’t resist” like I was in some stupid commercial. Back at the table, Barb was about ready to eat all the cheese dip. I said, “I didn’t see the cheese fries or else I wouldn’t have gotten the cheese dip too.”

The post office had 3-D (or holographic) stamps that morphed from three flying falcons to a fencepost and back again. I wondered if they were self-incriminating, but I have no idea what I meant by that.

—part two—

Matt and I went shopping for a hot tub for my deck. I really just wanted one to use my inner tube in with jets that would make me spin in circles. We went to a store with lots of different types of chairs, and I started to look at hammocks. Matt told the salesman, “We bought replacement seats for the Suburban here, so we know our way around. Thanks anyway.”

I went to my grandparents to see how the “exhibit change” was going. I guess they had some sort of amateur zoo. I peeked under one tarp and saw a large rectangular trampoline. There was a raccoon staring at me from a cage slightly beyond the trampoline and I thought about how cute raccoons jumping on a trampoline would be. I peeked under a different tarp, and it was a circular trampoline. I figured that they got rid of the black bear they had. As a pet, they had a bobcat they called “Wildcat.” Grandpa told me that they would be happy to keep my hot tub or hammock there if I wanted to. Grandpa walked into the house, drinking straight from a bottle of Wild Turkey. Grandma (who died in August) walked by, drinking an bottle of something else. Then Dad walked by, and he was drinking Southern Comfort straight. I was thirsty, so I followed them into the house to get a Diet Coke. They only had alcohol or A&W Diet Sweet Ale. I decided to pass.

I was at a roller rink, and since I can’t roller skate, I went over to the DJ booth and went through their CDs. They had a whole bunch of Japanese import Cartoon Network CDs on sale for $9.99. I couldn’t really tell what was on any of them since they had no pictures except for the Cartoon Network logo, except for one with Hello Kitty and one called “Powerpuff Girls Radio Hits.” All of the covers were hot pink with light pink Japanese characters.

I went to the doctor, and they were going to weigh me since one of the medicines they put me on usually made people gain a lot of weight. I said that that probably wouldn’t be a problem since I don’t get hungry or eat much anymore. I got on the scales and the nurse just kept saying, “This is impossible” and refusing to weigh me.

I was housesitting for someone, and I took the two days’ worth of mail downstairs to sort. I had turned off all the lights because I didn’t want anyone to know I was there and invite themselves over. While sorting the mail (there was quite a few people that lived there), I heard noises. I went upstairs, sneaking, trying not to be noticed, and Jake was throwing a party on one of the decks. It was a subdued party, mostly just people sitting around and talking. I opened the door and stuck my head out and told Jake “hi” so that he knew I knew they were there. Then I went back inside and hid in the back bathroom for no reason.

I got about twelve hours of sleep lastnite, but none of them were very happy hours. I really am not happy with the new medication.

Erika took me to a mall, then we ran into Priya. Then we all went to a bar and proceeded to get into a drinking game. I wasn’t looking forward to it because I knew I had to win. I have a very strong competitive streak with Priya and I was convinced I would not fail. The problem was that I was already nausated and hadn’t even entered a smoky atmosphere yet. Luckily, somehow we left after Priya got drunk, but before my turn. (This is most likely the result of me watching MSNBC’s “Spring Break: Parental Advisory Warning,” and being pretty amused/repulsed.)

I took enrollments for summer classes, and ending up begging teachers to teach more classes.

I was cleaning up beside my bed, taking the empty Diet Coke cans away, when I noticed that there was orange juice in one of them. I tried really hard to remember when I might have done that and if it would be okay to put it back in the refrigerator and drink it later. I decided that was not a good idea. I had three spray bottles, and I mixed up the liquids for some reason. This comes up later.

He (for the sake of mystery, I’m not saying who) came back. He said that he got an email from T and was inspired to tell his side of the story. I had no idea what he was talking about, other than vague ideas. He took a spray bottle of a liquid and started misting my walls; it was a red liquid he didn’t expect, he thought it would be plain water. I told him it was Cherry 409. When he sprayed the walls, they would become mostly pink with pale lavender boxes, rectangles, and circles. He didn’t really talk much, but he did discover a way into the attic from my old bedroom. He spent most of his time doing that. I replaced the batteries in the flashlight for him as he climbed into my ceiling. I could see a bunch of lightswitches and things and I urged him not to do anything that would make everyone else know he was here. After digging through boxes of things, discovering all sorts of toys and collectibles of mine from elementary school, he stared at me. Then he just smirked, climbed down, and proceeded to ask me to whisper something to him. Well, it was all an elaborate scheme to get me to kiss him by the electrical outlet under the window (where my Sesame Street Nightlight was placed when I was a wee baba). I instantly wondered about what I would tell Matt: then I figured that my visitor would be gone soon and nothing would really come of it. He left a business card, which just had his name on it and no contact information, which didn’t help me at all since I already knew that. He told me he didn’t want me to know his email address because he liked to remain elusive. Then he disappeared into the ceiling. Caryn was in the room and she said, “Well, he said you two were back together.” I looked at her and said, “He never said we were together before, and I doubt he did it this time either.” She agreed and said that he didn’t tell her anything. I said, “I bet he didn’t even say he was back because it would have taken admitting he was gone before, and he wants to pretend that he never knew me. He likes to waltz in and out of my life.” I asked Caryn if we could do some investigating, and she said that we had eight free passes to the FBI database at monster.com. I didn’t think it was worth using up one of those. Later, I was in a car with him and I chastized him for not being very hospitable, then he let me lean against him. We were on the left side of the car in a backseat (there was another guy on the right side of me). I don’t know who was driving, but it was rainy and dark. (Two potentially psychic moments: an interpretation. I ended up watching part of American Psycho (the business cards) and my roof leaked when a rainstorm came through (the attic/spray bottles). So there’s some interpretation for you…)

There was a large, black, mean dog on my bed who kept trying to bite off my fingers. He thought it was a game and I couldn’t convince him that he was really hurting me.